Collected poems of the Poetry Group of the Calgary Branch, Canadian Authors' Association

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HE Poetry Group of the Calgary Branch
of the Canadian Authors’ Associa-
tion has been organized for a period

of five years. During that time the mem-
bers have given much thought to the study
of poetry and to the technique of their
writing. Honors have come to members of
the group from the Alberta Poetry Book
sponsored by the Edmonton Branch of the
Authors’ Association, the Poetry Book of
the Montreal Branch and the recent Do-
minion Poetry Competition. Some of the
poems in this volume have been published
previously, and others are appearing for the
first time.

Selection Committee
SARA E. CARSLEY
LETTIE A. HILL
OLIVE M. FISHER

eae

CONTENTS

ALEXANDER, DEAN:
Nea Nena.

lntruston . . .
Bove. eric Erreu.:
October eee ee oe .-

eluduucn .
Bovp, dessin Dauamonn:
Triolet oo...
The Dancer
Cansibey, Sara i.:
.Uehenry -

Nataetlnt (Theoeritus) hill

Carney, Euainn M.:

The Spirit of Poetry 22.

Something Lovely Passed Me

Downk, ALR. (Lynette):
Old Hands Lo.
Requiescal tn Pace oo.
Forsvtink, RL B.:

fiy Cinbris .. wee ee

CGarnurr, MiaiZABErH :

Cathedral Mountain -

Nuusel 22. alee
Cieppes, Tene :

Man ls The Measure o.0-.-

HIV Lie Down and Sleep
lta. Agnes Aston:

Dream Sequenve 2. 2.2...
TILL, SYLVIA:

Mehing Lo.

Sonnet to Death
Htu., Lerrin ANN:

Mryge in Spring poe

Morning, Noon and Night -
Moon, Marcarer:

Rabbit) 1.2 2.

Ihen the Night “Descends with Ver Peace.

McKim, Vera;
The Raggedy Wind 222.
Petals 222022. we oe

OLson, Revir:

Children of the Resurrection

The Lingering Fire...
Tims, Wintrrep A.:
Carol oo.

By...

Daneing ween. eee -
THOMSON, GEORGINA:

MPeeds 2.2. wae wee

Futility oo. vee eee ee eee
Wit.iams, PLoS Jewel:

Cassandra's Cry 20...

The Other Life. .000. 6022-2 eee

I.

Or ON doe Ve LY eS OR Ve

Sea Song

REY skies
And storm clouds
Over head...
Grey seas
And a tossing ship
And the sun’s red.

(Grey seas

For a soft shroud
When I'm dead;
Grey foam

Of the wave’'s trough
For my bed.)

Grey foam

Curling the edge

Of the white spray ....
And a red sun

Marks the dawn

Of a new day.

—Jean Alexander.

Page Five

Intrusion

Ei. vou have taken all T loved in these;
The murmurous song at eventide of trees

Asstir with whispering branches and the ery

Of birds. as lonely spirited as [:

The brooks can laugh no more since vou have gome
To startle them to silence: they are dumb

As when the frosts of winter chill them fast;

The very winds are stilled. And so at last

{ turn from nature's shrines. Beeause you eame

The wods of earth can never be the same,

—Jcan Alecunder.

Page Six

Triolet

yee did -.at dream, vou did not see

That night. how strong was my temptation
To fly with vou to Araby:
You did not dream. vou did not see
What Araby would mean to me
Its fragrance gone. a scene of desolation:
You did not dream. vou did not see

That night-—-how strong was my temptation.

—Jessic Drionmond Bayd.

Page Seven

#N

The Dancer

Ne shadowy forms flit to and fre,

To and fro from the long ago,

While she glides with whimsieal grace

Trails her robe of silver lace

Through castle halls and aneient ruins
Of singing stone.

Armoured knights and ladies too,

And witehes who made their bitter brew,

An ecrie sound of a witeh’s croak

And the whisper of a Druid’s oak

Round the ruined castle and broken arch
Where she holds court.

Now she glides with whitmsieal grace

0) sorceress of the human race.

Ethereal laughter on the breeze.

A silken rustle af poplar trees

And shadow play on the erunbling dial
And diehened stone.

Shadowy forms flit to and fro

Within Time's ceaseless ebb and flow

No withering hand he Jays an you

No seeret ever a mortal drew

O silver Moon from sour treasury
Where von hold court,

Aessic Drnnimond Boyd,

Page Eight

Alchemy

(First Prize in C. A.A. Competition)

HIS that was vou. by craft celestial wrought
Of carven bone

And warm rose-petal flesh. is come to naught.

Dust unto dust. by the wind’s fingers strown:
So doom still overthrows
The pride of kings, the perfume of the rose.

You give your body to the blossoming mould.
The cold pure dew.

To all the lovely world you loved of old.
And these. life’s bruken beauty still renew.
Change upon mystic change.

In twilight caverns of enchantment strange.

And all vour loved and vanished loveliness,
So subtly wrought.

Still drinks the sun. still feels the wind's caress.
In jewelled wing or glowing petal caught:
Its erystal atoms glide

Into the stream of life’s exultant tide.

And you, the secret dweller of the shrine.
The inmost will,

Who made its silent loveliness divine,
You who were thought and action, joy and. skill.
Sinee yet endures the shell.

Shall not its many-splendored pearl as well?

Dissolved to earth and lucent air onee more.
And roaring foam,

Your tlesh is one with sea and sky and shore.
As in old time. ere to its alien home
From far horizons eame

Your valiant spirit like a singing flame.

Spirit of Life! Wis golden alehemy
Transmutes anew

To his own essence. whenee it came to be.
The laughing soul that was the light of you.
Unehanging to abide

When winds are still, and silent is the tide.

—Sara E. Carsicy

Page

Nine

A

Page

Simaetha
(Theocritus) Idyll 2.

HINE fair, O moon, and softly will f sing
Sweet strains and manifold. entreating thee
To turn his airy thoughts from wandering.
And bring again my grievous love to me,

Lo. as the laurel shrivels in the fire.
As whirls my brazen wheel untiringly,
So shaken. so consumed of fieree desire.
My magie wheel. bring home my love to me.

Thrice pour To wine. and thrice T speak my charms.
While through the night the dogs howl mournfully.

From feast and song, from Love's enfolding arms.
My magie wheel. bring home my Jove te me.

Ah. bitter Love. wilt never give me rest?
Still are the winds, and silent is the sea.
But never still the tevment in my breast:
My magic wheel. bring home my love to me.

Farewell. O Lady Moon; still will T bear.

As TF have borne, mine anguish patiently;
Farewell, O Night. and stars thay follow her,

Whose soundless wheels roll downward to the sea.

—Sara E. Carsley.

Ten

Rabbit

ID vou ever see a rabbit
Pretend he was a stone?
A brown, furry rabbit,

In a field. all alone?

Ifave yuu seen a round stone,
With brown marks for ears,
Suddenly appearing

Where a rabbit disappears?

John said it was a stone.
Or a piece of ald stump:
But I] eall it rabbit.—

Beeause IT saw it jump.

—Maryare! BL A.

Moodic,

Page

Eleven

iN

Paye

When the Night Descends
With Her Peace

HY, in the night. when I should be asleep.
Why. in the night. when the silenee is deep.
Why must I rise.
And seareh out thy rest. knowing only thy heart
Will be open and weleoming. tho” teardrops start
Deep in thine eves?

When the night descends with her peace on our dreams,

When the earth becomes silent and when even Life
scems

To shave with death,

I shall eome to thee then. lay my head on thy breast.

Thou who hast given much, wilt give me rest.

Thus my heart saith.

Tenderly night doth cover the shame of me.
Firmly dost thou lighten the blame from me,
Bring me to thee.

Lovingly. bravely. thou hearest this eall of mine,
Wisely thou bearest the pain of this fall of mine,
To Calvary.

-——Margare! B.A. Moudic.

Twelve

Weeds

Ate from the sidewalk’s burning heat

There’s a respite brief for tired feet

On a winding path through a vacant lot

That the civie fathers call a blot

On the city’s fairness. There till today

Weeds in their glory held riotous sway—
Regal thistles and tawny grasses,

Sage and yarrow in pungent masses,

Dandelions early and late.

Mustard daring a rebel's fate,

Vagrant clover from lawns nearby,

Goldenrod grown stately and high.

How the tang of them, heady and sweet,

Carried one off from the eity street,

Off to the ficids and open space,

And barefoot days, and sunbrowned faces!

But fate had spoken. Alas, today

Men came with seythes and mowed them away,

And there they lie in the noonday sun,

Shrivelled and faded, their brief day done.

But I comfort myself with the seeret thought

That the end.of the battle has not been fought.

With pride undaunted they'll reappear

And flaunt their glory another year!

—teorgina H. Thomson.

Page Thirteen

A

Futility

LITTLE moth thing
On dust-feathered wing
Fluttered in to the light
Through my window tonight.
Tt flew about dizzily.
Airily, busily,
Then from my sight.
Darted away again, aimlessly biundering

Into the night.

And I who sat watching its futile gyration,
What better my plight?

1. 100. have come on the drift of ereation

Into the light,

Here to go wondering. aimlessly blandering.
Till from men’s sight

1, too, shall fade, and go drifting far out again

Into the night.

—Georgina H. Thomson.

Fourteen

Autumn

UTUMN, stately as a queen,
Throws aside her robes of green,

Dons her lovely gold-lace gown

And her shining golden crown.

Glorious are the dreams she weaves.
Rich the gifts she now receives,

And she hoards the gleaming gold.
For a lover brave and bold.

Now she waits with royal grace
Longing for her lover’s face,

Sometimes weeping with despair,
Oft-times wistful smiles are there.

Winter came with kingly pride
And he claimed his lovely bride;
But her lover's frosty kiss
Brought to Autumn, death—and Dliss.

—Ethel Errol Boyd.

Page Fifteen

A

October

(TOBER as a gypsy maid
Comes daneing. dancing o‘er the hill,
With roses on her russet cheeks
She danees over mead and rill.

List to her sing to Pipes of Pan
As he tings golden pennies down,
They scatter all around her feet
While tall pine trees look down and frown.

With merry eves she beckons us—
A little wayward madeap thing.

| And Jeading us through woodsy paths

She begs of Pan more gold to fling.

Oh, wild and lovely gvpsy maid.
In tattered gown of crimson lace.
With mischief in her eves of brown
And hair wind-blown against her face.

—Kthel Erral Boyd.

Page Sisteen

The Spirit of Poetry

NOTHING is changed: nothing can ever change
In that one place you hold within my heart;

For as one peak in every mountain range,

By some intrinsic splendor stands apart.
Supreme, yet adding lustre to the rest.

A spur to climbers, and to eager souls
The challenge that demands of each his best.

The never-reached, but shining goal of goals—
So do you stand, alone, apart for me.

My work is in the valleys. but mine eyes,
Half-blind with tears and aching ecstasy.

Must ever lift to those serener skies
Whose radiance lights your brow, must ever seek
A path that climbs, but cannot reach, your peak.

—Elaine M. Catley.

Page Seventeen

A

Page

Something Lovely Passed Me By

A’ when a vagrant zephyr,

steals through the room at dusk,
And leaves the faintest perfume

Of resemary er musk—

So when life’s shadows gather
To a slowly darkening sky,
Comes a sense of dim frustration.
And the hardly stifled ery:
“Something lovely passed me by.”

Elusive as that zephyr,
Evading all pursuit;

Of when we failed to grasp it
Or whal its flower or fruit—

Though crowned with ripe fulfilment,
We each at last will lie,
Implore a few years longer.
Plead Death with a lingering sigh:
‘Something lovely passed me by.”"

—HElaine M, Calley.

Eightecn

Dream Sequence

URELY not so soon
Do the twilight shadows lengthen

Along the sky—
It:searcely seemed an hour
Sinee vou and I
Together went to mect the dawn,
All rose and amethyst—
And now the mist of evening falls,
With many a lovely rose
Yet folded in the bud.

How dreamlike now the ways we trod,
Tlow transient the days—

But see!

God lights His little lamps on high.
When darkness talls—that we,
Returning homeward at the close of day
May not lose the way!

To think T wakened so reluctantly!

Sleeping. 1 had seemed to waik another sphere,

Where many flowers grew

And Time was marked by days and years;
There-—I wandered down the happy ways
With one I loved,

But only for a little while, it seemed.
Though someone said

That for a lifetime we were wed.

(But that was just another dream,
"Twas really but a day!)

And now IT watch God’s angels light
Another candle in the night, for him,
(Perhaps his eyes grow dim.)

Page

Nineteen

a

Page

Dream Sequence (Continued)

3eyond all carthly telling, heautiful,

Here in these gardens where no leaf shall fall.

And yet. withal,

(Lord. see how my heart is bare.)
1 can’t forget

The one who walked with me.
And shared my earthly dream,
T only care

That he should share

All this, O, Father, see,

I will await him

At the outer gate:

Pray bear with me

And grant my whim.—

His little day grows late.

Ah, did J sleep.

And fail to keep

My vigil at the gate?

But no, the morning stilt is here
And... . comes at last. my dear!
Together now. we go into Infinity.
Unmarked by days or hours,

And where unfading flowers _
Lie whitely ‘neath our winged feet.
Oh. ean it he,

That it is but a dream within a dream?
(So sweet it is—so passing sweet!)

—aAgnes I, Aston

Twenty

Hill.

Carol

S ING we to Him a lullaby.
Who sweetly sleepeth

Where Mary dear, His mother mild,
Her fond watch keepeth.

Sing we to Him a lullaby.

Sing we to Him all tenderly.
Dear Babe. Who lieth

Upon His mother’s loving hreast
Whenee all fear flieth.

Sing we to Him all tenderly.

Sing ye to Him, angelic host,
Who now assaileth

The home and power of Satan’s might
Whieh yet prevaileth.

Sing ye to Him, angelic host.

Sing ye to Him. oh Shepherds. sing!
Your Shepherd liveth,

Who for His straved and wandering ones
His own life giveth.

Sing ye to Him. oh Shepherds, sing!

Yea, sing we all in eestacy!
Our God appeareth

To us in lowly form;
Our praise He heareth.

Yea, sing we all in ecstacy!

—Winifred A. Tims.

Page Twenty-one

a

Page

Dancing

HE Fir Trees are dancing in the wind tonight:
See how they bob, and fling their hands about.
And bend their heads.
Yet hold their backs erect aginst the storm,
Like Red Men. in their strange. outlandish danee.
Flexing the knees alone.
The very erash and thunder of the wind.
Sounding in smashing chords. discordant peals.
Keeps them to time. as the loud dram
Beats on and on monotonous, through the night.
TH) with the dawn both wind and druminers cease.
The Red Men sleep.

The Fir Trees sigh—and rest.

-- Winifred AL Tins.

Twenty-tivo

The Children of the Resurrection

ERITEAPS some day from out superior eves
T shall survey you calmly, still and wise,

Clothed in white garments fresh from Paradise
Bought at a place we knew as Calvary.
When the grave's slow doorway opens out ward-wise
And cerements are folded by and by.
And we call Home the thing we called the Sky.
Having closed hocks of old geography :
Perhaps IN mect you on some acther street,
And slowly, as onee here, our eyes shall meet—
Shall T be still then?) Shall my heart not beat
More loudly than when angels on the street

Aevost me. as their radiant feet go by?

-—Ruth BL Olsen,

Page Twenty-three

fi

The Lingering Fire

OULD I have chrysobery]

From Ceylon or Brazil,
A large black India pearl:
I'd like them; still ....

Rather than chrysoprase
Or emerald stirred
With green fire. or an opal

Like blue milk eurd—

ag Give me the lingering fire

In the heart of a word!

—Ruth E. Olson.

Puyge Twenty-four

The Raggedy Wind

HE raggedy wind came out of the west.

Out of the west eame he,
With a vagabond grace and a vagabond smile.
And the song of a gypsy free.
He lulled me to rest
With his songs of the west
Of dancing streams lit with golden dreams
Where a silver moon on a pathway gleams
Magie and gay and free.
And | sighed a sigh as [ bade him good-bye,
This rag@edy wind. laughed he.

But oft in the hush of a calm spring night
He beckons and calls

With a wild delight

As I lie in my bed

And turn out the light

Then elench my fingers

And hold them tight.

As the raggedy wind goes by,

As the raggedy wind goes by.

—Vera MeHim.

Page Twenty-five

Page

Petals
CIET. memory, quict.
Lest I forget

The stilling calm of tears once wet,

Peace. memory, peace.

Lest skies so blue

Are once more dimmed in morning dew,

Wush, memory, hush,
Lest 1 revall

Red roses “neath my warden wall,

—Vera McKim.

Tieenty-sir

Old Hands

] LOVE the beauty of old hands—
Old hands blue-veined

And marked with living,

Worn hands—

Long years of toil revealing

Whose every touch

Holds streneth and healing

So eloquent of Life’s demands,

1 love the beauty of old hands.

There is such beauty in old hands

So sure. so deft

Withal so fragile.

Slim hands—

Bespeaking ventle living

That have known much

Of gracious giving

Their frailty tenderness commands
There is sueh beauty in old hands.

—Lynetle. (Mrs, Al. R. Downe.)

Page Twenty-seven

fa

Page

Requiescat in Pace

PEAK no ill word to his reproach or shame

We who know not the why of it. dare we seek to
hlame?

Who felt not the goad that urged him stay his
breath

How shall we seek to judge the manner of his
death?

For him the gleam was darkened. the way of life
was rough,

And so det pity shroud him. silently . 2... It is
enough,

And kindly Mother Earth will take him to her
ample breast

Nor ever question why he gomes thus early to his
rest,

Nor grant him less of sun, or waving verdure spread

Above the fragrant soil wherein he finds a quiet
hed:

And for the harassed soul which sought a premature
release

Wrapped in calm. eternal stillness may he ever rest
in peace.

—hLynctle. (Mars. ALR. Downe.)

Twenty-etght

Etching

RAINDROPs
Dripping

Down the window-pane—
Like pearls
Slipping

From a broken chain.—

Jewels

Glist ‘ning

Tn the silvered light... ..

While I'm
List ning
For vour song, tonight.

Softly.
Your words.
Falling. one by one .....
Musie
Of birds.
And the night is gone.

—NSylvia Hill,

Page

Twenty-nine

a

Page

Sonnet to Death

WY do omen shudder at vour silent call,
Ounknown keeper af the tun of Peace?
There are no favored in your banquet hall—
All who quaff Lethe’s wine find care’s sureease.
“Tis strange that footsteps falter at veur gate
When vou are but Life's eontinuity—
The one omega of each mortal fate
And alpha af our inunertality.

kindly host-— who waits to weleome me

Aud give me shelter from Life's storm and stress,
lu some white chamber of vour hostelry

Popray that you will lave my weariness.

O Death, what treasures do you hold: in tee
Within sour portals of eternity!

--Nayleda Will,

Thirty

Man is the Measure

M AN is the measure of all things unto himseH
Whose subtlest wisdom measures the mind oat
man.

But the flowers and the trees and the erasses covered
ervey earth
Ere he heean.

Wide are the ways of carth he wanders in.

Desert. prairie. and forest. change at his teuech;

But when man has gone to his bones in the naked rack,
Who will praise such?

Nerves wearied of man and his follies. pain and
dist ress

The wide rivers of heaven. sea without shore,

Barth of many directions, the green lovers of light.

Soothe and restore.

Sefore a man had raised his chant to the sun

The pasque-flower lifted its face from the prairie
loam:

When all the winds have listened his chorus in vain.

Tt will dwell at home.

—Telen Geddes.

Paye Thirty-one

A

1 Will Lie Down and Sleep

] will lie down and sleep,
Out of the grief

Of passions that eontend

Without relied,

Until. regardless grown,

On time's blue curving shore

1 return. tree. Hower, or stone,

Or come no more,

1 will lie down and sleep,
Out of the pain

That circumstance abounds
To wake again,

Until, all inindless sunk

In that calm sea.

T dwell, sand. water, shell.
Or cease to be.

—IIclen Geddes.

Page Thirty-two

Cathedral Mountain
(Third Prize in CALA. Competition)
T stands amid impassive solitude,
A master Arehitect’s triumphant dream:
lis purple wings of vivid shadows bread
In benedietion over hill and stream:
lis massive towers stab the virgin blue
With spires of snow, while far below there lies,
In cloistral calm. a lake of jade-green hue

Reflecting lonery rock and lonely skies.

The Unknown God's cathedral hewn in stone-~
From pediment to erypt in dark abyss

IH scorns trite, empiy rites, and ereed out-grown,
No temple to the little gods is this,

But a tall tabernacle. austere. vast.

Fling skyward by the great Teonoclast,

—Klizaheth Garbult

Paae Thirty-three

a

Pade

Thirty-four

Sunset

L OUD sirens blow
Mt osix o'clock :
Thrangh factory doors
Gaunt firures: stalk.

Torise ind: wateh
With eager eve
To see omy man
Come striding by,

Almost bo hear

iis whistled call
Resounding through
Our tiny hall

Old habits prove
‘Too strong far ine.
1otara aways
eluetautly,

No need ta wait!
T shall nat see
May own wood man

Come home te me,

Long quonths age
Ihis wark was done;
The dead came net
At setoaf sun.

Rhirabeth Garbull,

Cassandra's Cry

HIGE rulers scoffed. and sent men torth who
died,
Within the walls of Troy, Cassandra eried.—
“Drums will beat.
To shuliling feet.
OF men who fight.
Por wrong and right.
Death will tly.
Jn the high sky,
And our sons sleep,
In aceans deep.
(Gifts from gods,
Will forge the rods,
That twist to pain,
The world again.
very breath,
Will suck in Death,
And man and child.
Will be defiled.
Muted songs.
Will tell of wrongs.
And Beauty. tled
Before the dead.”

Troy is no more. Yet still endures the ery.
And strutting fools still send men out to die,

—Floas Jewell Williams,

Page Thirty-five i
f

Paue

The Orher Life

Sacclean wind, riding across the valleys bright.
The bills and tlowering plains,
Frets at niyo window panes,
Barred against light.
So. inceting vou, dreams from some wunremembered
ways
(if life beneath a kinder sun.
Beat on my weary run

Of muddled days.

—Flos Jewdl Williams.

Thirty-stay

Ex Umbris

HE barbed spine from which but yesterday
The last leaf fluttering fell—
This bare, black, pointed barb of wind-swept tree.

The leaden sky from which but yesterday
The last flake fluttering fell—
The dull-eved child of storm-spent clouds on high.

And vesterday
Into
The tireless sea, wounded. down dropped
A lonely sea-bird, tluttering as it fell—
Into that aching void of wind-swept sea.
This bare black barh,
This dull-eved child.
This aching void of foam,
Is memory.

—R. B. Forsyth,

Page Thirty-seven

Dirge in Spring

] THINK that each fvesh spring

My heart must break anew
Thinking of you,

Sealed in your quiet grave
Away from all this joyous
Curavansary of Hfe:
This tapestry of new leaves come again
This haechanalia of singing birds
Breasting a green-gold eanopy of Tight.
This choral rain upon a thirsty earth.

You were my April after winter drought,
You were the singing and the joy

That made of all nia days a vernal being.
Noo mare the spring can call to me.

No more the mounting tide of vour delight
Around ny spirit, eager waters Lave,

Like vou. my heart Hes quiet in its grave,

-- hedlic Aan Hi,

Page Thirty-eight

Morning, Noon and Night

IIo deepening East. a searlet poppy burns,
The loud and urgent pageantry of day
Sounds out its clarion to the silent hosts.
Along the earth. the dawn-wind draws its length.
Beneath the sea, deep murmurings portend
Of vocal harmonies and thundering chords.
The sun. a freighted galleon, drowns in gold.

The meridian sky, a blue enamel wears.

The white and gilded brillianey of noon
Beats ceasclessly upon the drowsing world.

All earth lies supine in this mid-day hour.

fer meagre ribs she vainly seeks to elothe

In shimmering, lambent veils of quivering light
Bright, sharp and glittering as a drawn sword.

The empurpled sea, a silent courier brings.
The vaporous ainethyst of evening mists
Enfolds the earven pillars of the day.

A white moth floats by like a drifting leaf.
Tts silver wings against a rose-white flame
Fan stealthily the languid lotus air.

The moon, a red lamp. lights the syeamore.

Lettie Ann Hill,

Page Thirty-aioe

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